


Beyond Your Peripheral Vision

by sweetbutterbliss



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Accidental Exhibitionism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Barsad Is A Terrible Wingman, Barsad Is Sassy, College, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Bruce Wayne/Talia Al Ghul, Pining, University, Voyeurism, Wingman Bane
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1879638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetbutterbliss/pseuds/sweetbutterbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bane probably could have gotten over this stupid infatuation. Maybe picture John when he's jerking off, then and be able to move on. Until that smile; it spreads across his whole face and he has dimples. He looks so innocent and earnest that Bane feels his chest clench</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We just thought the fandom needed some college au. Tags will be added as we go!
> 
> Beta'd as ever by [ Heather.](http://haveyoumethoward.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Title from Ani Difranco's [ 32 Flavors. ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chLjpk2yhvk)
> 
>  
> 
> _I am beyond your peripheral vision, so you might want to turn your head._

"I was under the impression that I only needed to participate to earn the 'participation' grade," Bane stares stoically at Professor Jackson.

"Well, yes. But participation doesn't mean constant argument and interruption." 

The professor is a small man with a too-long moustache, tinged yellow with tobacco smoke. He licks his lips nervously and scuttles further away from Bane's looming presence. He has yet to look Bane in the eye, busying himself with papers on his desk.

"Actually that is the definition of 'participation.' It does not mean to listen meekly and nod in agreement when someone is wrong."

"What you do is a disruption. It took the rest of class to get back on subject the last time you 'participated'."

Bane smiles, remembering their discussion of Cambodia and the United States' involvement, or lack there of. He'd been surprised by how many of these students hadn't any clue what had actually happened. But of course, he shouldn't have been. 

"Be that as it may, you're also failing the actual written work," he held up Bane's latest paper; the topic was supposed to be on how terrorism is utilized in today's modern political climate, and Bane compared the United States government and their use of terrorist tactics against their own people. It's so covered in red ink that you can barely read what Bane had typed out.

Bane frowns and decides not to argue with the man. He does need to pass the class in order to keep his scholarship, so he bites down on his tongue and just nods, clenching and unclenching his fists behind his back.

"I have taken the liberty of setting you up with a tutor. Please email them and let them know your availability."

Before Bane can protest, the man holds up a hand with a smug smile spread across his face; it's all Bane can do not to rip off his stupid moustache.

"You will get extra credit for the tutoring, and they will help you with the next few papers. I can't imagine I will be able to pass you if you don't take this opportunity."

"Of course, Professor," Bane reaches out slowly and takes the paper, laughing lowly at the way the man flinches away from him. He turns and leaves the room quietly before crumbling the paper in his fist and finally allowing the anger to show on his face. A terrified Freshman skitters by, giving him a wide berth. He flips over the card with the tutoring information, and reads it.

"John Blake," he mumbles and shoves it down deep into his pocket, heading off to find Barsad to get lunch with.

***

John sits at the back of the library in his spot. It has a window, the table is big enough for him to spread out all of his stuff, and it's right next to a power outlet for his laptop. The best part is that it's in the history section, where no-one ever seems to visit. Earlier in the week, he'd replied to the terse email from Antonio Dorrance to meet him here, but who knows if this guy will even turn up? 

He taps his pen against the edge of the desk, chewing on his lip. Tutoring isn't his favorite thing - lots of rich douchebags who think that John is supposed to help them magically pass without them having to do any actual work. But he needs the extra money; his Scholarship for Pathetic Orphans only covers school, and just barely. Guy has to eat. So if that means spending hours with brain dead idiots, then so be it.

He looks up at the thud of heavy boots, straight at the biggest bag of rocks he's ever seen. John isn't scrawny. even if people think he is. He's wiry, thankyouverymuch. He's had to keep in good enough shape to protect himself, out of necessity, but this guy looks as though he could punch through a brick wall, or snap John's neck with a flick and no change in expression.

He's wearing a huge overcoat, and a scarf covering most of the bottom of his face, leaving only piercing blue eyes that are staring back at John.

"Oh. Mr. Dorrance?" he stands, holding out his hand and pointedly ignoring the blush spreading across his cheeks. 

"Bane," John's hand is dwarfed when the man takes it and shakes it once, before dropping it abruptly. 

"Excuse me?" John frowns, the man's voice is muffled by his scarf. He must have heard wrong.

The man doesn't reply right away; he turns, shrugging out of his coat, and John can't help but swallow at the way his back muscles move beneath his tight, black shirt. He unwinds his scarf, slowly flinging it over the coat draped across the empty chair. He turns to face John again, his entire stance defiant as though daring John to say something.

His mouth is scarred; a particular nasty one bisecting his upper lip, surrounded by smaller ones radiating out toward his cheeks. John tries not to stare, but he can't seem to stop his eyes from roving over the damage. Despite the scars, the man is still beautiful, in a terrifying kind of way. John shakes himself and sits down.

"They call me Bane," the man says again, after a pause.

"That's fucked up," John says, before realizing how rude that sounds. "I'm sorry, not my business."

Bane laughs, pulling out a chair to sit across from him. "No. I appreciate the honesty. Most people just choose to ignore the obvious."

"Oh. Okay. So, what happened to your face then?" John winces at himself, but he's always been too curious and outspoken for his own good - he basically has no filter. It's gotten his ass kicked more than once in the past.

Bane's eyes widen and he leans back in the chair, which creaks under his weight. He appraises John slowly, as though reassessing him.

"That is a very rude question, Mr. Blake."

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm such an asshole. We can just pretend like I didn't ask, it's cool," he flips through the pages of his political science book, not even glancing up as he speaks.

"No. You're not an 'asshole'," the word sounds foreign in Bane's mouth and it's the first time that John detects a slight accent. "I was not in a very safe place as a child. A place not meant for children at all. I...did things that the adults did not appreciate, and so I was punished."

John's sure that there's is more to the story than that, but he feels relieved that he got that much information from Bane without being dragged across the table.

"I hear you, man. I have some scars from being "punished" too. Not that I'm trying to compare to your situation or anything. It's not a contest or anything," he clears his throat and blushes when Bane laughs at him.

"Right. Tutoring then. Professor Jackson said you need help with writing papers for your Poli-Sci classes?"

Bane scoffs and flips open his messenger bag, as John pretends not to be interested in his thick fingers flipping through a folder. Bane shoves the paper at him.

"Read it, and tell me what I've done wrong," Bane challenges him.

***

It takes John about fifteen minutes to read, his tongue caught firmly between his teeth and nodding as he goes, one of his long fingers marking his place. Bane spends the time attempting to very subtly stare at him. He's breathtaking; all angles and long, lean muscles beneath his threadbare t-shirt. Bane already knows that he's lovely when he blushes, and his honest questions had been refreshing. 

John looks up, tapping the paper with a pen.

This is fucking brilliant. Your ideas are carefully thought out and paid off. You have followed the structure to a T. Your introduction and conclusion are utterly perfect, and I can't find any issues with grammar or English. I'm assuming it's your second language?"

"Fourth actually," Bane corrects quietly.

"Fourth...fuck," John gapes at him and ducks his head to look at the paper again. "Why the fuck do you need a tutor? This is graduate level work."

"It seems that my political leanings are too controversial for Professor Jackson," Bane shrugs, failing to suppress his smile.

"Well yeah, but you give evidence to support all the themes. Wait..." John holds up a hand, his brown eyes flashing, "are you telling me that Professor Jackson is trying to fail you because he doesn't _agree_ with you?"

"It would seem so."

John is even more beautiful when he's furious; his entire face lights up and his protruding ears even turn red.

"Well, fuck that."

"Yes. Well, I'd love to say that, but I do need to pass to keep my scholarship."

"Of course. And since Jackson's head of the fucking department he's untouchable and can make your life a living hell," John's mouth twists to the side in a scowl, and Bane just about manages to suppress the urge to drag him closer and push his face into the tumble of hair down the back of John's neck.

Yes," Bane sighs, rubbing a hand across his face. He has to get this under control. It can only end in pain - his own, of course. No one as beautiful as John Blake would be interested in him; angry, terrifying, and ugly is not what anyone wants in their bed.

"Alright, well, we'll just have to get you a pass so you can go on to get your masters and then take over the world," John looks up and smiles at Bane.

Bane probably could have gotten over this stupid infatuation. Maybe picture John when he's jerking off, and be able to move on. Until that smile; it spreads across his whole face and he has dimples. He looks so innocent and earnest that Bane feels his chest clench, and he mentally facepalms. He's absolutely fucked.


	2. Chapter 2

Bane nurses his drink as he leans heavily against the bar, quietly observing the heaving crowd, all sweat and moving limbs. The pounding music and strobe lights have combined to develop an intense headache, and he's counting down the minutes until he can leave.

He spots Barsad on the outer edges of the crowd and smiles as he watches him; moving against the woman in front of him without effort, one hand on her hip, grinding up against her. His sleepy eyes give him the appearance of boredom, and his ever-present smirk is spread across his face. He attracts more people with his patented part-scornful-part-uninterested brand of charisma. It works every time, and it looks like it's working again. Bane shakes his head; he doesn't know why he expected anything else. 

Barsad is beautiful and he knows it, using it like any other weapon in his arsenal. Even Bane has been known to fall victim to his long fingers and blue eyes; they fuck on and off, when they're bored and horny. They're far beyond friends, members of their found family, and they love each other fiercely. But the sex is just sex - a way to pass the time and they both know each other's bodies so intimately that it's always good. They're both happy with not taking it any further than that. Barsad drags Bane out occasionally as a wingman, but it's not as though he needs one very often, he does just fine by himself.

Bane knows that he's dismissed when the woman's possible boyfriend crowds up behind Barsad and begins grinding into his ass. Barsad slings his free hand around the back of the man's neck and turns his head for a sloppy kiss. Bane catches his eye and raises his glass, nodding his head toward the door. Barsad winks at him before turning back to tonight's conquest. _Conquests._

Bane goes home and jerks off to the thought of dimples and dark curls before putting himself to bed early.

***

John isn't entirely sure if Bane and he are friends. They meet more often than John gets paid to for tutoring him, and they spend the majority of the time talking about the world and its politics than focusing on Bane's grade.

He reports back that he's made a B on his last paper with John's careful editing. John had been pleased at the rare smile that Bane had given him along with the news. He has to admit that he's harboring a bit of a crush on Bane, but he tries to shove it down whenever they have coffee together, because Bane is very obviously not interested; he's stand-offish, and never reacts to John's subtle attempts to flirt with him.

Bane has invited him to his home - a small cottage-style house off campus. He'd asked John if he had any allergies and told him to bring something he likes to drink. John thinks that maybe it's a date, but he doesn't want to get his hopes up.

He knocks on the door and waits, chewing his bottom lip nervously out of habit. He's worn tight jeans and a shirt that could be considered too small, but that he knows his shoulders and biceps fill out nicely. If it isn't a date, he looks comfortable, but if it is then he wants to look good. He really wishes that he could get an easier read of the other man.

Maybe tonight he'll work up the courage to do something; he nods to himself as the door swings open. It isn't Bane, it's someone smaller - more John's size. He's shirtless and has on soft drawstring pants that are resting dangerously low on his hips. A thin trail of hair leads down into the pants and his hipbones jut out over the seam.

The man leans against the door, smiling at John, one hip cocked out. He eyes John up and down before licking his lips. John feels breathless and flushed, and he doesn't even know this guy.

"You must be John?" the man reaches out and pulls John in by his wrist, shutting the door behind them and pulling him into the kitchen. This must be Bane's boyfriend, there's no way that two beautiful people like this live together and aren't fucking. John suddenly feels stupid and very small.

"John," Bane is standing at the stove of a tiny kitchen, a worn round table in the center half-covered in books, and he's almost positive pieces of a gun spread out across newspaper.

Bane looks him over, his eyes lingering on where his boyfriend is still grasping John's arm. John hastily shakes it free and steps to the side.

"Hey. I, um...brought wine," he thrusts it into Bane's hands and shoves his own into his pockets.

"Thank you, John," he sets it on the counter and smiles briefly.

"I see you have met my brother, Barsad."

"Your brother?" John feels relief bloom in his chest.

"Well, not technically. We're orphans who have no one else," Barsad holds out a hand to shake.

"Me too. An orphan I mean," John takes his hand, startled when Barsad tugs him a little closer, his thumb rubbing against the bump of John's wrist.

"He's very pretty, brother. Why didn't you tell me?" Barsad laughs, gesturing at John.

"I hadn't noticed," Bane replies to the drawer he's digging through. Blake's relief dies a little at that.

"Oh, I doubt that," Barsad licks his lips again and John blushes.

"He's here to tutor me, not to be harassed by you," Bane admonishes tightly.

_Right. Not a date. Should've known._ John sighs internally.

"Ah, but isn't harassment in the eye of the beholder? I'm just being friendly," Barsad winks.

"No harassment is harassment, Barsad. Talia would smack you for that."

"Who's Talia?"

"Our sister," Bane replies with a fond smile. "She lives on campus, alone. She cannot live with Barsad without wanting to kill him."

Bane ignores the injured sound that his brother makes at that statement.

"Another sister-but-not-sister?" John guesses.

Barsad nods, his face thoughtful.

"I have an idea. You should come out with me. Wouldn't that be a better idea than sitting here talking about books and other such inanities?" Barsad's eyes twinkle and he raises an eyebrow at John.

"Um...sure. Why not?" 

He ignores the stab of guilt for breaking plans, but now he knows it isn't a date anyway, he finds it a lot easier. And Barsad has shown more interest in him in the last ten minutes than Bane _ever_ has. He hasn't been laid in a while either, so why the fuck not.

Bane stills with the wine opener in his hand, looking between them.

"You must come, brother. You haven't joined me in so long."

"I came last week," Bane says flatly.

Barsad shrugs, "I'll be right back, John."

"Are you coming then?" John asks hopefully, but Bane shakes his head.

He doesn't look up at John, and the guilt intensifies.

"Look, I can stay. That was rude of me anyway."

"No, John. It's fine. I need to catch up on some reading anyway," he shuffles around the kitchen, aimlessly picking up things and putting them back down.

Barsad returns in record time, wearing the tightest jeans that John's ever seen and a shirt that just barely skims the edge of his pants, showing a flash of tanned skin every time he moves.

Barsad tries one more time to convince Bane to join them, while John stands awkwardly next to the door. Bane refuses again and wishes them a good night, before shooing them out the door with a completely unreadable expression.

John continues to feel like a heel until he drowns it in three or four beers and an untold number of shots. Some of which he licks off Barsad's flat, toned stomach, shortly before Barsad returns the favor.

By the time they're stumbling out of the club, John can only think about peeling Barsad out of his impossibly tight jeans and getting his mouth on around Barsad's cock.

***

Bane lets them go, still able to hear them as they stroll down the sidewalk, their voices familiar even if he can't make out the words.

He sighs and takes in the state of the kitchen. He'd been cooking for the better half of the day, recipes that Talia had taught him, some of his favorites that he'd wanted to share with John. He stares down into the pan, unable to bring himself to eat any of it alone.

He lifts it up and, with one quick movement, turns it upside down over the trash, throwing in the fresh pastries from the oven for good measure. He can't really be angry; his brother is like a firefly, always flitting to the next glowing light without a thought for anyone else.

If he'd told Barsad of this...infatuation, he's sure would've kept away from John. But he hadn't, and now all of his plans of wooing John Blake are over - he knows that he can't compare to the addictive beauty of Barsad.

He drags the bottle of wine off the counter and takes it to his bedroom, a book tucked under his arm. He flops down onto the clean sheets he'd put on this morning, for no particular reason, and vows to start forgetting this silly distraction in the morning.

He simply needs to forget about John, it should be easy. He'll allow himself a week to tuck it all away and move on. He has more important things to consider, after all, like...keeping his scholarship.

But tonight, he drags Osito off the shelf, hidden behind books on war and strategy and drinks straight from the bottle, berating himself for being so easily swayed by a pretty smile.


	3. Chapter 3

Bane wakes slower than he ordinarily likes to, it's one of the reasons he doesn't usually drink. It makes him feel less alert and sluggish. Talia always laughs at him, reminding him he isn't in the pit any more; he can relax. He reminds her that there are dangers at university too, and of course she only laughs at him more.

He doesn't know what's woken him as he rolls out of bed. His door is open a crack and he can hear the faint sound of voices - whispers, and giggles accompanied by the wet, smacking sound of kisses. He sighs when he sees the familiar silhouettes on the couch. Barsad is sitting with his head thrown back against the couch and John is straddling him, hands pressed against Barsad's shoulders. Bane nudges the door open quietly, hearing the moans from John as he lifts himself up and down on Barsad's cock. Bane shuts his eyes tightly and presses the heel of his hand against his thickening cock.

Barsad has his hands on John's slender hips, gripping tightly, and Bane takes a second to imagine the bruises that will be there in the morning. He lets out the breath he'd been holding and reaches inside his pants to loosely grip his cock just as John leans back and rests his palms on the coffee table behind him. His body arches and writhes as he grinds down on Barsad.

Bane can see John's cock bobbing against his stomach, and he swallows a groan as he begins pumping his fist, wincing at the slick sound it makes - hoping that the other two can't hear him over their own lewd sounds. He bites his lip to keep him moans from escaping, his hips thrusting forward as he does. 

John let out a loud sound and came all over his stomach, Barsad lifts him back up easily and presses John's limp body against his own and begins thrusting harder into John, stilling and Bane know that he's coming. And Bane slips over the edge with a quiet gasp, his hands slick with his own come. 

He starts to feel a heavy guilt settle as he comes down from his orgasm. He looks up, and catches Barsad looking right at him with a shit eating grin. He winks and Bane jerks back and sighs. Barsad knew he'd been their the whole time. 

Bane won't be able to face his brother, or John, in the morning. He hopes Barsad won't tell John; he doesn't know if John would appreciate being watched, even if Barsad is quite the exhibitionist. Bane cleans up and gets dressed, grabbing up his battered messenger bag and climbing out of his window, his heavy boots making far too much noise on the metal steps. He ignores it in favor of being able to hurry away as quickly as he can.

***

Talia opens the door and takes one look at him before she pulls him into a hug. She's the only person permitted to touch him in that way, and he leans slightly into her small frame.

"Come. Tell me what is troubling you, my brother."

He sits on her couch and spills every detail of his ridiculous life. He leaves out the voyeurism part, not sure if she'd laugh at him or scold him. Probably both. Talia interrupts only to fetch ice cream and spoons from the kitchen. Bane eyes it scornfully at first, but ended up eating more than his half of the container.

"I will beat Barsad over his lovely, little head," Talia remarks with a frown.

"No. It is my own fault. I didn't tell him. You know how he is," Bane sighs heavily.

"Ah yes, our pretty little Barsad, so skin hungry," she smiles fondly.

Bane nods and tries not to eat more ice cream, but failing.

"Tell me about this John Blake."

"He's not only beautiful, but brilliant. And so innocent, Talia. He has an unfailing moral compass. There is no grey area for him. It's all good and bad for him."

Talia is nice enough not to mention the awed tone in his voice, she just smiles quietly and nods.

"What is he majoring in?"

"Criminal Justice. Of course. I cannot sway him. He holds his own in every argument we have. He's even more radiant when he is furious."

He heaves a sigh and scrunches his eyes shut.

"You're gone, my dear one," Talia grabs his hand and kisses it.

"Yes. I am. What a fool."

"Maybe. Maybe not. We shall see." 

She grabs him some blankets and lets him sleep on her couch, dropping a kiss on his head before heading to her own bed.

***

"Why won't you come and meet our new friend?" Barsad wheedles, draped across Talia's bed.

Talia scoffs and flips through her closet, she throws a dress or two onto the bed, unsubtly knocking Barsad in the face.

"Why would I want to, my little deviant? I have never wanted to meet your sexual conquests before," she replies breezily.

"But he's our friend."

Talia waves a hand dismissively. "You have poor taste in friends, brother. But enough about this stranger. Tell me, which should I wear?"

She holds up two dresses against her body.

"Ahhh, a date with the elusive Bruce Wayne calls for understated elegance, I think," he points to the one on the left.

Talia bites her lip.

"Are you sure? His usual dates are less...clothed," she smirks.

"Exactly. You will surprise him. Besides, you're not one of his usual dates. You're Talia Al Ghul."

"You make an excellent point," she leans over and tugs on his hair with a fond smile. "What would I do without my family here?"

"Oh, take over the world. Easily."

Talia laughs and begins shimmying out of her clothes on her way to the bathroom, leaving a smirking Barsad on her bed.

***

Bane would like to kill his brother. John is standing on his doorstep, shoulders hunched and his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Hey."

"Hello, John. Barsad's not here," he waves John in anyway, unable to deny himself the company, at least.

"Oh. I know," John heaves a sigh, and flops onto the couch.

Bane sits at the other end, and is surprised when John scootches closer, pressing his miserable face into Bane's bicep. Bane stiffens, attempting to relax without being obvious about it.

"I know it was just a one time thing, you know? And I don't want a relationship with Barsad. I'm not that stupid. No offense," John glances at Bane apologetically.

Bane wiggles his arm free so that John is pressed into his chest instead, and tentatively cards his fingers through the dark curls. He tugs them free of each other and wraps them around his fingers, watching in fascination as they spring back curlier than they were before.

"I am not offended. I love my brother, but he...isn't the relationship type," Bane responds.

"I know. And that's really not what I want anyway. I'm not pining for him or anything. I just...you know you don't realize how lonely you are until you go back to being lonely?"

Bane _mmmhmmms_ , and continues his minstrations, attempting to keep the pleased smile off his face when John wraps both arms around his waist and snuggles in closer.

"Thanks for being my friend. I don't have a lot of people to talk to."

"I will always be here, John. Don't worry."

John mumbles and sighs. They stay like that for a while, quiet, just breathing each others' air. When Bane stops rubbing his head, John headbutts his hand with a grumpy noise until he starts back up again.

John eventually dozes off and Bane's finds his face actually hurting from all of his helpless smiling.

***

In the end, Talia doesn't have to tell Barsad. He guesses, or really, Bane lets it slip without meaning to.

John's at the kitchen table, hunched over some complicated math work. His hair is standing on end, and his lips are bitten red in his frustration. Barsad is sitting across from him, smirking, his chair tilted back as he slides his rag over the firing pin, setting it down on the table to pick up the next piece to clean.

Bane is at the stove, cooking and humming to himself, when John grumbles at his paper.

"How the fuck did I even get that answer?"

Bane laughs and leans over the paper, double checking John's work.

"No, Habibi. Like this," he flushes immediately when he notices Barsad's head shoot up, his eyes narrowed.

He focuses on showing John the formula, refusing to look at his brother.

"Thank you. Jesus, they should be paying you to tutor me."

John bends back over his paper, and gives a happy hum as he gets the correct answer this time.

Barsad continues to glare at Bane, until Bane finally gathers the courage to look at him. Barsad raises an eyebrow at him, and Bane shrugs helplessly, shaking his head.

He knows that this won't be the end of it from the way that Barsad's mouth tightens, far from it in fact. But he slowly returns to cleaning his weapon, and Bane heaves a sigh of relief before turning back to the stove.

"What does Habibi mean?" John looks up, his tongue stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables.

"It's a term of endearment," Barsad supplies without looking up.

It's Bane's turn to glare at Barsad, but the man ignores him.

"It is not so serious as that, John. Just a nickname of sorts. I won't call you it again," he counters.

"No, I don't mind," John shrugs, but he looks back and forth between the two, his eyes squinting in suspicion.

"Alright then. Finish your homework, it's almost time to eat." 

Bane hopes it doesn't come up again, but the way Barsad narrows his eyes at him promises that it is a vain hope.


	4. Chapter 4

John slumps in the plush seats and sips at his coffee. He doesn't even try and participate in the conversation because he know Talia will just interrupt him or dismiss what he has to say. He's wedged in beside Bane's sizable bulk, so it isn't such a hardship to just snuggle up against him and feed off his warmth. Campus is covered in snow and it'd taken a good fifteen minutes before he could feel his fingers all the way.

Bane had taken his own red scarf off and looped it around John's neck, before dragging him down to sit beside him and admonishing him to _'drink your coffee, Habibi.'_

He'd had the mature urge to stick his tongue out at the way Talia's lips thinned, but he'd just smiled and wiggled closer, flexing his hands until the ache left them. He feels safe and instead of studying, he ends up dozing, the comforting rumble of Bane's voice as he debates this week's issue with Talia and Barsad.

John is pretty sure that Barsad only disagrees with Bane because he enjoys riling him up. John feels Bane getting more animated and opens his eyes to see Barsad, one leg slung over the armchair, smirking cheerfully.

John loves that these are his friends, dangerous and fierce brothers who have accepted boring him into their fold. Talia hates him for her own reasons, of which he has no idea, but he doesn't let it phase him because Bane always comes to his defense.

He knows he should probably start on his civics paper, but he can't bring himself to move, and allows himself to fall deeper into sleep; his dreams full of scarred mouths and callused fingers.

***

Bane's heart swells every time he sees John in his scarf. It's one of the ones he made himself; he does it to keep his hands busy and his mind focused. It's a loose weave, red scarf, and he's only ever made one other like it - for Barsad.

Barsad and Talia have always scolded him for being a mother hen; he's been trained in the brotherhood to lead revolutions, but he still forces hot soup on anyone who sits still long enough.

John falls asleep against him often, watching a movie or when they're supposed to be studying. Bane carefully arranges him, not wanting to wake him, and runs his hands through John's dark hair, sitting with him long after the movies are over. He cherishes these quiet movements, John's eyelashes fluttering in the hollows under his eyes and his sleep warm skin pressed easily against him.

He also hates them, they're tantalizing sips of something he can't have. He hoards each moment, every quiet sigh or murmured bit of nonsense, and thinks about it for the rest of the week. He's pathetic and he despises himself for it, but he can't bring himself to stop.

Barsad watches him with a pained expression, but Bane tends to ignore him. If he wants to be a glutton for punishment, that's his own business. John is not a distraction from his cause, as Talia so often likes to insist. He's the _reason_ for the cause, a battered, family-less, boy who still believes desperately in order and justice. He's the kind of citizen that so urgently needs a wake up call.

So he leans further back into the couch and allows John to sleep; he knows that when John wakes he'll turn red and mumble about exams and all night studying. But until then, Bane lets himself soak in as much of John as he can have.

***

John has to do something. He can't keep up this sad little crush he has on Bane. Waking up in the other man's arms is more than he can bear, especially when it's just Bane being a good friend. He presses the feeling down, but it's possible that 'crush' may be too generous of a description for his feelings toward Bane; words like pathetic, weak, and silly come to mind. He frantically ignores the swelling his chest when he untangles himself from the scarf Bane had given him, Bane's scent still lingering on it . 

***

John's still trying to find a way to get over it, when he goes out with Barsad. After the club they're in a WaWa because Barsad is out of cigarettes, and he can't live a night without them apparently. They're sweaty and covered in glitter, a little buzzed from alcohol, the high of music, and the crush of other bodies. John leans his back against the counter while Barsad drapes himself across it, flirting with the dopey girl behind the counter. She blushes to her dark roots and smiles a crooked smile at him. Barsad's preferred brand isn't in the front, so she promises, with a giggle, to be right back.

"What is it, Barsad? You and I never got weird. No hard feelings or anything," John blurts out, holding his hands out palm up.

Barsad turns and mirrors him, leaning his back against the counter.

"Because we fucked it out, little bird," he winks and laughs when the girl returns at that moment, letting out a shocked gasp. John ignores her while Barsad pays.

"Is that it? We just fucked, and got it out of our system?" John asks incredulously. 

"Yup. Cleaned the pipes, so to speak. Emotionally and physically. The best thing for unresolved sexual tension is to resolve it," he taps the pack against his palm a few times as they trail out of the store.

John bobs his head and shoves his hands into his tight jeans.

"Yeah, that actually makes sense."

He thinks that it can't hurt to try. He successfully ignores the rational voice saying that it can most definitely hurt, and that it will most probably be him who gets hurt.

***

Bane is flipping idly through his book, and if the number of notes in the margin are anything to go by, it's one that he's read many times. John smiles and swallows before knocking the book aside and straddling Bane's spread legs. The stretch of his own thighs across them make him bite his lip.

"Habibi?" Bane's usual deep voice is quiet, breathy even. He stares up at John who rests his hands on Bane's face, tilting it up further.

John doesn't say anything, just bends forward and presses his mouth against Bane's. The scars make the kiss feel uneven, but also different in a good way; no kiss will compare to this first one. Bane groans and grips John's hips, pulling them closer together. John, encouraged, licks at the seam of Bane's mouth until he opens up for him with a sigh. John feels Bane's body relax beneath him, his muscles loosening, even as he grips John tighter.

He licks into Bane's mouth tentatively until Bane takes control, and it's suddenly like no kiss he's ever had. He forgets to analyze or worry, his sole focus is Bane's mouth on his, and Bane's hands sliding up under shirt, brushing over his spine and scratching lightly against his skin.

When he'd considered it, he'd always assumed that he'd have to be the aggressor, that he'd have to coax it out of Bane. But it's as though the kiss has opened up the floodgates and given Bane permission to stop acting carefully.

Without warning, he slides his hands under John's thighs and stands, all in one motion, not even breaking the kiss. John grabs at Bane's shoulders with a gasp.

"I've got you, Habibi. Don't worry," he holds John up with one hand and uses the other to press him closer again to capture his mouth. He carries them to his bedroom and pushes John against the door, kissing him frantically. 

"Wait, wait. Naked. Yes," John manages to demand between kisses.

Bane steps back and gently lets John down to stand on his own. He runs a thumb across John's swollen mouth and smiles, stripping himself of his shirt and shucking his pants so quickly that John is still struggling with the button of his too-tight jeans when Bane knocks his hands away and breaks the button off.

John laughs helplessly, running his hands across what he can reach of Bane's skin, not wanting to linger on his scars but making a note to ask him about them later. Or not. He stops laughing as he remembers that this isn't a forever thing. As much as he wants it, this is a one time, get-it-out-of-his-system-and-go-back-to-being-friends kind of thing. He decides that he may as well enjoy himself, as he slips out of his shirt and smiles up at Bane.

Bane doesn't seem to notice John's sad thoughts as he pushes John back until he hits the bed. He's murmuring about how beautiful John is and how he wants to mark him.

"Is this alright, John?" he bites gently at John's neck, waiting for permission. John nods and presses his throat into Bane's mouth, as Bane makes a pleased rumbling noise and bites harder, sucking blood to the surface. He leans back to inspect his work, and then returns to making more marks across John's clavicle. John arches up, moaning and accidentally makes contact with Bane's cock.

"Holy fuck, you're huge!" 

Bane laughs and grinds down hard against John's hip. He finishes his work on John's neck and holds him down with one big hand on his chest, making John still his constant thrusts and frustrated wiggling. He feels safe and calm, despite his panting breaths. Bane keeps him pinned there, and reaches for his bedside drawer pulling out lube and condoms.

"I want to be inside you, Habibi. Unless you're not ready for that?" Bane looms over him, his eyebrows knit together in concern, his eyes blown wide.

John doesn't trust himself to speak, so he just licks his lip and nods. 

"I need you to say it, John," Bane's face is stern.

"Yes. Please, fuck me," he whispers and flushes red at the way Bane's mouth drops open and he grinds up against John again.

"Alright," Bane sits back between John's legs, and pushes them up so they're pressed against John's stomach. His hands are firm but gentle against the back of John's trembling thighs.

"Hold yourself here," Bane puts John's hands behind his own knees and John grips them tight. He's already sweaty and he loses his grip, but he catches them, spreading them further apart.

He feels exposed and his skin is hot every second that Bane doesn't touch him, just looks him up and down. John is panting heavily, and he's sure he's never been this turned on before in his life. He readjusts his knees so they're spread wider and higher and Bane smiles at him.

He grabs the lube and spreads it across his thick fingers, then he reaches down and rubs it all around John's hole with his thumb, just teasing him. John huffs and rolls his hips impatiently, as best as he can while he's holding his legs to his chest. Bane takes the hint, pressing one hand to John's stomach and pushing down slightly while slipping one finger into John. John can feel it but it isn't enough.

"More," he demands.

Bane's chest is heaving and John is grateful that he isn't as totally unaffected as he's acting. He nods and adds another finger, spreading them wide a few times before adding a third. John watches him as he looks down, his face mesmerized. 

Bane's free hand moves and curls gently around John's leaking cock.He doesn't do anything, just leaves his hand loose around it and John thinks he might actually go crazy. He doesn't have much leverage but he tries to fuck himself down on Bane's fingers, just as Bane looks up, as though coming out of a daze, and grins at John.

"Patience, Habibi."

"Fuck. No. Fuck. Me," John punctuates each word with a thrust of his hips.

"Alright. Yes. I will," Bane sounds as bad off as John now, as he slides his fingers out and tears open the condom. His hands are trembling as he rolls it on and slicks it up.

"Just tell me if it hurts you."

"Yeah, yeah of course, just..."

Bane takes control of John's legs, which is for the best because they were starting to feel like jelly, and rests his knees over Bane's forearms. Bane shuffles forward, and when John feels the first press of the head of cock against his hole he stops breathing and feels dizzy, until Bane calls his name and his mouth falls open, pulling in rattling breaths.

Bane is fully inside him and it's big. Bigger than he's ever had, but it also feels right; as though he's never been full before now. Bane hitches up John's legs and rocks forward hitting his prostate with every thrust. John feel his eyes rolling back into his head, his mouth is open to let out the loud moans and babbling praise. Bane's moaning sounds like low growls emanating from his chest as he keeps up the steady, pounding pace. 

John grips the sheets, pulling them free of the mattress, and arches up - he goes quiet and comes across his stomach, his entire body pulled taut. He comes down as though he's been floating, to realize that Bane is rubbing across his sides and soothing him, letting him recover before he throws John's legs up over his shoudlers and begins thrusting in harder and faster. John feels himself starting to get over-sensitive, and it's just becoming this side of painful when Bane comes with a loud roar, his body trembling as he collapses over John. He just manages to keep his elbows underneath him, saving John from being crushed, which he's grateful for. He can barely breathe as it is. His legs slide down until they're cradled around Bane's hips, and Bane buries his face in John's neck. John lifts his arm up and pets him the back of his fuzzy head, scratching gently.

They lie like that, catching their breath, until Bane rolls over and slips the condom off. After he throws it away he comes back and cleans John up. He's almost completely asleep; he still feels floaty and wants to just let go and fall, but he feels Bane manhandling him around and then the bed dips as he lies down beside John. Bane drapes an arm around him and pulls him closer.

John snuggles in even closer, pulling the arm tighter and tucking his head beneath Bane's chin before falling asleep from one second to the next.


	5. Chapter 5

John wakes to Bane's mouth on his; letting out a small groan, he kisses back and reaches up for Bane's broad shoulders, pulling him closer and letting out a little whimper when Bane pulls away from him. 

He cracks his eyes open and pouts at Bane, who merely laughs and brushes back John's hair.

"I have to go to class, Habibi. I will meet you later for tutoring."

"Oh, can we make it dirty tutoring?" John lifts his hips up and waggles his eyebrows.

"No. We will study then come back here." The words are simple, but the way Bane's eyes darken and he slips a thumb against John's mouth make them seem filthy.

"Sleep. I'll see you at the library."

"Right. Sleep," John cocoons himself further into the bed, which smells of them both, and closes his eyes. He hears the door shut and allows sleep to take him.

***

His alarm is going off somewhere in the room. He reaches a hand out from beneath the covers and pats around near the bed until he finds his pants. He drags them up into his nest and fishes his phone out of the tight pockets, silencing the noise. He groans and flops back onto the bed.

He's fucked up. It was only supposed to be a one time thing with Bane and then he'd be over it, ready to move on. He hadn't intended to sleep over, or have a quiet, domestic moment this morning. He certainly hadn't intended to have the ache in his chest actually worsen.

He thinks about how Bane had treated him this morning, and his promises for later. He doesn't know what it means though. He knows he'll probably pathetically follow Bane home, he'd probably follow Bane anywhere. Like the little bird Barsad insists he is, following after Bane and his breadcrumbs. He punches the mattress and thinks about what a complete idiot he is. He's going to kill Barsad. 'Fuck it out.' Yeah, right. Great fucking idea.

He's determined to talk to Bane, he just needs to know where they stand now. If it's just sex, then he can do that. Well, no he can't. But he probably will anyway. He hopes it can be more; maybe Bane is interested. He pulls himself out of bed and decides to miss class so he can go home and shower. He's not wearing last night's club clothes to his ethics class.

***

Bane can't stop the fluttering in his chest. He knows it's ridiculous and distracting, just as Talia had accused, but he also can't bring himself to care. He'll take this one happy thing in his life and keep it for himself. 

He'd probably scared his classmates even more this morning with his quiet grinning, rather than his usual demeanor. He fiddles with his book strap as he walks through the stacks, heading toward their usual table. He's going to sweep John up and kiss him soundly in front of everyone. He stifles the nervous thought that John may not want to be seen with him that way: his John is not so shallow, surely.

All the thoughts vanish from his head as he comes from behind a shelf to see John leaning back against the table, and talking to a dark blonde man. His face looks thoroughly miserable and Bane stutters to a stop. John hasn't seen him but Bane can make out their voices.

"I don't know, Bruce. I'm just an idiot."

Bruce Wayne; John had mentioned that he knows Talia's current conquest. He feels sorry for the man briefly, knowing that if Talia has her claws in him, he stands no chance. 

"So why did you do it then?" Bruce has his head down, flipping idly through a magazine.

"I just did it to get it over with. Fuck it out and then we can go back to being friends," John's face is twisted into a grim smile.

Bane stops breathing and takes a step back. He barely hears Bruce's reply as he stumbles back, just missing knocking over the tiny librarian assistant standing behind him. He growls at him instead of apologizing. He wants out and he feels trapped amongst the labyrinth of books.

He finally makes it outside, leaning against the bricks and gulping in deep breaths of air, his old injuries stinging more than usual in his panic. He can't stand here in the open having some kind of a panic attack, so he gathers himself before pushing off the wall and heading in search of the comfort of his family. He knows the pity and I-told-you-so will be there, but it'll be with love and protection. It's the only thing he needs right now. As he walks, he begins the laborious process of building his walls back up - stronger this time. He won't let a pretty face distract him from his cause again.

***

"So did it work?" Bruce asks quietly.

"No. It didn't. It's so much worse now. It's like this constant craving I have just to be near him. I'm so fucked!" John covers his mouth and lets out a muffled scream. He ducks his head when he gets a sharp look from the harassed looking librarian assistant.

"Yup. Sounds like it, man."

"You're not helping."

"How about this? Let me take you out. We can get shitfaced in the town car and find some strippers or something. My treat."

"Bruce. That's not...argh!! It's not about that. It's not like sex with someone else will fix it. I don't even _want_ to have sex with anyone else. I want Bane. I just want him. You know?" he tapers off into whisper.

Bruce stares at him blankly.

"Like...Rachel."

A look of pain crosses Bruce's face at the mention of his dead ex-fiancée.

"Sorry, man. I just...that's how I feel. I want to tell him everything and give him everything. And just...I need to talk to him."

"Yeah, you do. And you know if it doesn't work out - offer's still open. We can drown our sorrows in expensive alcohol and women."

John has always envied how easy it is for Bruce to put on a mask of the good-time party boy. He probably won't take him up on it, but he nods anyway and stands.

"I'll call you. Thanks, man."

"Yeah. That's what I'm here for."

He waves absently while digging his phone out of his pocket; Bane's never late and he isn't answering his phone. John chews on his lip, trying not to let his anxiety take over. It takes him a while to get across campus and to Bane's ramshackle little house. By that time he's all out panicking after leaving three voicemails and far too many unanswered texts. He knocks and steps back off the stoop, one hand gripping his bag until his knuckles turn white. His mind races through all the possibilities.

He knows it's bad when the door swings open and both Talia and Barsad stand blocking the doorway. Talia has a smug, tight smile on her face and Barsad just looks gutted.

"Oh my god. Is Bane okay? He's alright, isn't he?" John blurts out.

"No, John Blake, he's not," Talia says, sneering down her nose at him.

John feels the blood drain from his face and he takes a step forward.

"What's wrong with him? Let me see him."

"No. You've done enough," Talia may as well have spit on him the way she looks at him. She turns, flouncing back into the house.

"What...?" John looks at Barsad for help.

"He's physically fine, but he doesn't want to see you," Barsad replied.

"What? What's wrong with him then?" John hates the way his voice is reaching new octaves in his panic.

"Just...go home, little bird," Barsad sighs heavily, leaning against the door.

"Will you just tell him I was here? Please?" John pleads, his mind whirling in confusion. This morning seems like a lifetime ago and everything feels unreal.

"Of course. Now you have to leave, and please do not come back."

Barsad shuts the door with a quiet finality. John stands gaping at the scarred front door for a minute. He notices a curtain twitch, and he lets out a deep breath, feeling dizzy. He has no idea what he's done wrong, but he feels cut off and left to drift away. He swallows and begins the trudge back to his room, his head lowered to hide the tears that track down his cheeks.


	6. Chapter 6

John hadn't realized how lonely he'd been before he'd met Bane and Barsad until he didn't have them anymore. All of his phone calls and texts have gone unanswered, and the first few times he'd gone over, Barsad had sent him away with a sad look in his sleepy eyes, but after that his knocks also go unanswered.

He used to run into them around campus off and on throughout the day, but it's like they have a John radar and use it to avoid him. He's caught a glimpse or two of Bane across the courtyard, but every time he fights his way over, Bane disappears as though he'd never been there.

He carries around a heavy feeling in his chest; the reason changes daily, hourly sometimes. He feels embarrassment that he'd been so stupid, anger that Bane could just discard him so easily after sex, but mostly just grief.

He grieves for the family he's lost for the second time in his life. He can barely remember losing his mom and dad, but he still carries it around with him every day. This is new and fresh; he'd let himself trust and accept it like an idiot. He'd thought that years of foster families shunting him aside would have cured him of that. But no, he's just a pathetic, love-starved orphan no matter what he does.

And he's furious with himself for it.

So after a month of radio silence, the first person he runs into is Talia, and he loses it. She bumps into him deliberately at the coffee kiosk on West Campus and _accidentally_ spills her coffee down his front.

She stands there, flawless and cold, a cruel smile twisted over her face. 

"What's your fucking problem?" John yells, ignoring the looks he's getting from everyone else.

Talia doesn't say anything, merely raises her eyebrows at him.

"I don't know why you hate me. I don't give a shit, actually, but what do you care anymore? I'm not in your life anymore. So just leave me the fuck alone," he shouts at her.

"Oh look, the little bird gets hopping mad," she laughs.

All of the anger rushes out of John in a woosh. He feels hollow, not sure if his bones can hold him up any longer. He slumps forward, fiddling with the strap on his bag. 

"You're a miserable fucking person. I get that. But I don't understand why this happened. If Bane doesn't care anymore, or just wanted to fuck and run, why couldn't he just tell me? I could've handled it," his voice breaks at the end, and he looks up to see her eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

He whirls around and walks away as quickly as possible before he can burst into tears in front of Talia Al Ghul. He's not sure he'll be able to stave off the impending mental break down if that happens.

***

Bane allows himself to sink into his routine; he goes to class, taking a different route to avoid John, and eats lunch with his brother or sister, who fail at distracting him. The only time he isn't thinking of John is when he's sparring with them. He's able to not think of anything except where to strike the next blow and when to block. He's breathing heavy when they're done, wiping his face off with a towel, and for a glorious few hours he can't feel his heart breaking. If his family would let him, he'd probably end up hurting himself by going all day.

But they always drag him away. He doesn't know what he'd do without them, and that thought brings him back to John. He's seen him a few times, trudging across campus with his heavy backpack, alone, his head down and his shoulders bowed. Bane wants to reach out to him and comfort him, but he knows that if he does it won't end there. He'll end up back where he was, wrapped up in someone who doesn't want him, who used him. He tries to think that it's only what he deserves but it makes him feel even worse.

Bane emerges from his room to find Barsad and Talia whisper-arguing in the kitchen. Barsad is holding up his hands and Talia is shaking her head in sharp, quick movements. When they see Bane they both take a step back, looking contrite.

"What would you like for dinner?" Talia claps her hands and smiles. Bane has known her since she was a little girl, and he wonders why she thinks she can fool him. 

He raises an eyebrow and cocks his head to the side, fixing them both with a silent look and waiting. People always break under his towering scrutiny, he doesn't usually have to say anything.

Barsad is the first to break, licking his lip and holding his hands out.

"Talia has something to tell you."

Bane ignores the betrayed gasp and focuses his glare on her alone. She's made of much tougher stuff than their brother, and holds out for longer. She bangs around the kitchen, pulling out pans and sticking her head in the fridge, but never actually starts anything.

"Fine!" she throws her hands up and slinks into the living room, flopping onto the couch. Her arms are crossed and, if Bane didn't know she was the fearsome warrior heir to the League of Shadows, he'd say she was pouting. 

"I _may_ have been wrong."

Barsad scoffs as he settles himself into the armchair, hands clasped between his knees. Bane remains standing, staring down at both of them.

"I saw John Blake today."

Bane holds up a hand, immediately cutting her off.

"I do not wish to speak of him. If this is to do with him, I don't want to hear of it," he stomps out of the room, and begins cleaning up Talia's mess so that he can actually make them dinner.

"Brother," Barsad leans in the doorway, "I know it's not your favorite topic, but...it might be important. You may regret not hearing it."

"I will regret hearing it. I am not interested in Hab...John Blake any longer. It's in the past. Talia was right. He was merely a distraction."

"I was not right," Talia pushes past Barsad, her chin tipped up defiantly.

Both men gape at her statement.

"You were wrong?"

"I didn't say that. I merely admit that I may not have been right."

"What's the difference?" Barsad mutters, but Talia ignores him.

"As I was _saying_ , I ran into John Blake today, and he yelled at me. For no reason, may I add."

Bane and Barsad both scoff at her before allowing her to continue.

"I may have accidentally ran into him and spilled a tiny bit of coffee on him. His reaction was terribly out of proportion," her red nails flash as she waves her hand dismissively.

"Regardless, he said some things that put me under the impression that we may have underestimated him. "

Bane crosses his arms and huffs, his chest grows tight, and he can feel the anger he's been keeping so tightly clamped down simmering below the surface.

"I don't remember the exact wording, but he implied that he thought that you had broken up with him; that he cared about you and he was the injured party."

"How is that possible? I heard what he said."

"But...did you? I mean, you heard part of it. Maybe there's more to it?" Barsad suggest, his gestures hesitant, eyebrows raised.

Talia is silent and her stance is defiant, but Bane can see the tears threatening to spill. He gestures for her to come closer and pulls her into a bone creaking hug.

"It's alright. You were only protecting me. "

She nods, sniffling into his chest.

"We can find out for you. Let us fix this."

Bane shrugs, fiddling with the edge of the kitchen counter where the linoleum has curled up. He's only just started to put this behind him, shoving it into the dark part of him that's in danger of overfilling. He's had to get over a lot in his short life; he's not sure thathe can let John back in and not have it work. He's not sure if anything else will fit, he may not get over it a second time.

He shakes his head and inhales deeply.

"Not for now. For now, let us eat something."

Barsad and Talia glance at each other and open their mouths, protest evident on their faces.

"I'm not saying I will not consider the new information. Believe me, it may be all I think about. But I beg you, please, let me do it in my own time. Do not meddle."

Talia ducks her head and nods while Barsad smirks and agrees quietly.  
Bane turns away, taking shallow breaths, and decides to focus on something easy, like creating dinner, before he runs tearing out the door to comfort his John. His fingers itch to call him and demand an explanation; to forgive him without one. He presses his phone so hard in his pocket that the plastic creaks. After dinner, he disappears into his room and falls asleep with his thumb poised over the number he never got around to deleting.


	7. Chapter 7

Bane knows he isn't concentrating. He knows all of his thoughts are for John. He hasn't made any kind of decision about what to do. He knows Talia wouldn't lie to him, but he still hears John's words ringing in his ears; how he'd only used him. How can John believe that he's the wronged one?

Bane should just talk to John and get his side of the story, but Bane has a very real fear that he won't even wait for an explanation and just forgive John the moment he's close enough to touch. He trudges up the walk, his head lost in thoughts of 'should he-shouldn't he.' He's getting sick of being in his own head and he's ready to wash his hands of the whole thing. He just wants to go back to the League and train with his brothers and sisters until he's dripping with sweat and his body aches, before falling into his bed at night.

The pain from his scars only gets worse when he's like this, and he's looking forward to letting Barsad ply him with the analgesic he's created just for Bane. It's disheartening that he needs it more and more, so he tries to avoid using it, but today he'll give in. 

He looks up to find a hunched over figure, shivering on his steps; the quick flash of red makes his chest clench.

"John?" he's proud of himself for not calling him Habibi. He grits his teeth and attempts not to clench his fists.

"Bane," John's teeth are chattering. "Can I come in?"

Bane imagines sending him away, but it's only brief. He resigns himself to having the decision made for him as he nods and unlocks the door, ushering John in and shoving him onto the couch.

"Stay," he manages to growl, before going into the kitchen to make tea. He takes the time for the kettle to boil to calm down to gather his bearings.

"Why are you here, John?" he hands the tea over before sitting on the coffee table in front of John, their knees knocking together.

"Talia said you wanted to see me," John looks over his cup, seemingly surprised at Bane's question.

"Talia is meddlesome, and a liar, when it suits her."

"So, you didn't want to see me?" John's eyes are wide and he tries to push the tea back into Bane's hands. Bane stops him and pushes him back to sit before he can stand up all the way.

"I always want to see you. But no, I did not ask Talia to tell you so."

"I'm sorry. I was so hopeful...I thought. Well, never mind I guess. I'll just, uhhh...go then?" he doesn't stand again, his brown eyes wide and color returning to his cheeks.

Bane wants to bundle him up, strip him, and kiss the warmth back into him. He takes a deep breath and looks away.

"You're here. We may as well talk, I suppose."

"Okay," John agrees, but doesn't add anything.

They sit awkwardly, avoiding each other's gaze for a moment.

"I looked up what, 'Habibi' means," John says quietly.

Bane clears his throat, feeling his face heat up.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Bane isn't sure what else to say. 

"I don't understand what I did wrong."

"You...were using me," Bane blurts out.

"I...was...what?" John's eyebrows knit together, and his mouth turns down into a frown.

"I heard you, talking to Bruce Wayne. You said you were only using me for sex," Bane whispers.

"No. Oh my god, Bane," he drops his empty cup and grasps Bane's hands. His hands are still cold and Bane turns his palms up to grasp them back, engulfing them in his larger hands.

"I heard you. You cannot lie."

"I'm not! I'm an idiot, but I'm not lying. I have to explain. I wanted...loved...you for a long time now. I thought that _you_ only thought of me as a friend, and I thought that if I had sex with you it'd get everything out of my system. Just...I don't know...erase all of the sexual tension we had."

Bane raises an eyebrow, refusing to let his hope over take him.

"I know! It was _so_ stupid. All it did was make it worse and then you stopped talking to me. And it hurt so much, I lost not just my chance with you, but also the new family I'd built. And it was devastating. I don't think I can bring myself to lose you again."

Bane swallows, searching for any sign of a lie or trick, before John continues.

"Even if you only want to be my friend again, I want you in my life. You make it better. We don't have to be any more than that. I promise."

"But you said you love me?"

"Yeah, I do. I love you. But I don't expect you to have to love me back. That's totally fine. I'll deal with it, and we can still hang out and talk, and everything will go back to the way it was. Please," John's eyes are wild and his voice is rising as he talks.

"But it cannot be the same," Bane nods firmly.

"Oh, okay. I understand. Thank you for letting me explain," John's voice cracks and he tries to pull his hands free.

Bane tightens his hold and tugs, pulling John into his chest.

"It cannot be the same because I love you, John Blake. I love you too."

John gapes for a second before he clambers up into Bane's lap, his knees on either side of his hips, and grabs him by the face, running a thumb across Bane's cheekbones beneath his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he whispers, licking his lips.

"Quite sure, Habibi," Bane laughs, pressing his hands to John's lower back.

John smiles, his dimples making an appearance, and then he's kissing Bane everywhere - across his eyelids and down to his mouth, pressing briefly before continuing on his way as though he's staking a claim.

"Are you trying to eat me, little bird?" Bane laughs, catching John's mouth with his own and holding him still as he licks inside. He breaks off breathlessly and sighs when John tucks his head into his shoulder and lets out a happy sob.

"Promise me that we will talk to each other in the future?" Bane rubs soothing circles into John's back as he nods his affirmative reply, muffled against Bane's skin.

***

They spend the next year and a half together. John's new found family accepts him unconditionally; even Talia warms up to him. She takes him shopping, 'tsking' at his holey t-shirts and too-short jeans. She dresses him like he's a project, but also debates politics with him happily and introduces him to people in high places. She helps him with his references and application to the police academy even as she teases him and expresses her displeasure about it.

He still goes out dancing with Barsad; both losing themselves in the music and other sweaty bodies. The only difference is that Barsad still goes home with whoever, while John always goes home to Bane, waking him up and letting himself be peeled out of his tight club clothes and have the glitter thumbed off his cheeks.

Bane doesn't talk much about his plans after graduation, only saying that he'll be working for Talia's father and it is not a place that Habibi can go for now.

"Someday we will welcome such a fierce little bird, but you must go and learn your lessons out there first," is as much as he'll let John know.

John frowns and wheedles, but he never gets anywhere with it. He resigns himself to having a long-distance relationship; nothing will stop him from loving Bane, even miles of distance.

***

After graduation, they go their separate ways - John stays in Gotham and Bane disappears to who knows where. To a place that doesn't have internet connection or phone lines apparently. John has moments of wondering if that's bullshit and he's just subtly being broken up with. Until the first letter, written in Bane's surprisingly delicate cursive. He'll get one almost every day for a month and then there's silence, until a new one appears, sometimes months and months later. Bane describes it as similar to being in the military; he has missions where he's unable to communicate. John works hard as a police officer and waits until the day when he can see Bane again.

Bane had given him permission to seek out partners to tide him over, but he hadn't ever taken him up on it. It gets easier when Talia moves back to Gotham. She's still icy and elegant, but now going by the name Miranda Tate. She refuses to explain why, and John is so grateful to have part of his family within reach that he doesn't question it.

He falls asleep on his window seat more often than not, watching the streets, wishing he could help Gotham somehow. The city he loves is falling apart around him and there's nothing he can do.

***

Bane has to wear a mask now, a constant flow of pain relieving chemicals created by Barsad, but he's still in pain. He waits impatiently while Barsad changes the canisters after their long flight into Gotham. He's much bigger now, and less quick to laugh or argue. He's succinct and expects people to listen to him and take orders. Barsad is very much the same, still an unrepentant flirt and the only person to talk back to Bane. But only when they're alone.

"Sit still, brother, until I am done," Barsad reprimands. "You fidget like a child."

Bane growls and stills himself until the mask is strapped back on, and he's able to take a breath without so much pain. 

" _Now_ are you done?" Bane demands.

"Yes. Patience is a virtue, brother."

"You're the only one I trust to do this, Barsad. You will go now and get him."

Barsad smirks and re-shoulders his rifle.

"Of course I will. I'm excited to see the little bird myself."

He leaves Bane to wait impatiently for his Habibi and their much awaited reunion. He has a feeling it will be an interesting one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the waiting and lovely comments and kudos. I know it's a bit of a ultra-mega-happy ending, but I tried to tie it into the movie, so not so perfectly happy maybe? Anyway, thanks again!

**Author's Note:**

> My [tumblr.](http://www.sweetbutterbliss.tumblr.com)


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